


as we knew it.

by koriente



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood and Gore, Death, Heavy Angst, Survival, Trauma, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 12:26:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12531344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koriente/pseuds/koriente
Summary: It seemed obvious now that they looked back on it; the shift in atmosphere, the change of nature's pace. All were signs that everything was coming to an end, but they continued on with their lives until one day....it just stopped.





	as we knew it.

"I don't know. It's just the same dream over and over again. It started like....a few months ago?" Keith impatiently tapped his feet, fingers fiddling with one another and eyes stealing glances towards the window behind the therapist seated in the chair before him. Sitting still was never his strong suit and something told him to get home as quickly as possible, yet the old man wouldn't end their session.

"I see... Do you feel a...particular way about it?" Wrinkling hands gestured slightly, pen wedged between his index and middle finger. Salt and pepper eyebrows raised in the slightest as the question was raised.

"....Not...really? I guess it just kinda makes me feel really...nervous? I think that's just because I don't understand what it means." And neither did his therapist.

With a shrug, he leaned towards the coffee table separating them to pick up his prescription pad and jot down a few words,"Well, it could just be due to your Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Nightmares are quite frequent and sometimes your subconscious knows more than you do about their meanings. I've had many patients in my years, Keith. They've come to me about dreams they've had about cannibalism, death of family members, abuse they endured throughout their time alive. Sometimes dreams don't mean anything and sometimes they do, but they're not an omen to a tragedy waiting to strike. They fuel your paranoia of such a thing, but dreams can't tell the future. They can't warn you of it." With that, he ripped out the sheet he was writing on and handed it over to a very disgruntled Keith. This session failed to help him think through his issues, but perhaps that was more so his fault. His inability to properly open up to others prevented his therapist from actually seeing what needed to be helped. This landed him with a bunch of useless advice and coping mechanisms as well as a little lecture from Shiro to be more honest. Stupid, completely fucking stupid. A grumbled half-hearted thanks and Keith snatched the prescription paper from his hand and stood up. It was just a slight raise in dosage from something he was already taking and a request for refills in the future.

The nagging feeling kept nudging at his chest. His legs quickly marched out of the office and down the stairs to where Shiro would be waiting in the parking lot. It wasn't like he couldn't drive, he just chose not to if Shiro was home anyways. Car door slams and Keith shifts in his seat to buckle in the seatbelt. Silence filled the air around them.

"Soooo...how did it go?" He could sense the tension radiating off his passenger. As expect, Keith just mumbled a few words before handing over the prescription slip.

"Uneventful as always. That guy infuriates me. Don't know _why_ you're making me see him still." Arms folded, Keith stared out the window towards passing cars and street lamps. Gas stations to convenience stores and a Walmart. They passed by him until they were nothing but a memory of life prior to the halt in time. Moving vehicles turned to abandoned ones with flung open doors and baggage scattered about the roads. Suitcases worn from weather; they had surely seen better days. Bright lights no longer lit their way back home as they once had. Instead of driving back from a therapy appointment, he was walking down empty streets with a bat in hand and a knife in his pocket. Besides him was none other than the only piece of family he had left in a world so dreary and dead. For the past month they had only known aimless wandering across town and grotesque groans filling their ears as they took shelter at night. They were always more active at night. Always filling the streets and leaving him awake for endless hours in fear they'd notice them somehow and break through the doors. How could he sleep with danger lurking around every corner; something that followed them relentlessly?

"We need to find somewhere to stay or we're fucked." He didn't mean for it to come out so harsh. The past month had been hard on both of them. They were alone in a world where death reigned and they were a meal to creatures you could only dream of in nightmares. 

"Let's check if there's a small store around. The smaller, the better." Because being in such an open area made him feel vulnerable. Shiro felt the need to contain the issue, stick themselves in a small space in order to bring security and concealment. He had to protect Keith. Had to protect family. If he failed, he would crumble.

Luck has been on their side as a small shoe store appeared among the large apartment buildings of the city. This was also a sign they were close to the outskirts. ( That may mean less of _them_. )

Shiro nudged the door. Unlocked. Luck really _was_ on their side. A bell chimed upon entering. So obnoxiously loud when it was so quiet around them... The employee door was closed and shoes were littered around the floors with many missing their pair. It was empty for the most part, though. They could use a shelf to shield the door and make their morning escape through the back possibly, but for now they'll block entrance ways and rest. Shiro gestured over to Keith to press his body against one side while he mediated the other to keep it from tumbling over. Keith groaned, applying as much pressure as possible to shift the shelf out of its place and towards the door. Shiro's hands gripped under one of the shelves to lift it and pull it until he was backed up at the door. From there, he slipped out from behind it and joined Keith on the other side to finish the process. Keith released a sigh of relief, leaning up against it.

"I always hated this place. They fired me for the stupidest reason." Combing through his dark bangs, Keith pushed himself back onto his feet. Shiro snorted.

"It's because you would talk back to customers. Condescending tones don't really do you any good when you're trying to maintain a job." Shiro walked over to the packs they placed on the floor and rummaged through to find the can of beans they found earlier as he received roll of the eyes.

"You act like I did that _all_ the time. It was only three and it was because they couldn't use a fucking expired coupon or some shit. The manager just hated me and wanted a reason to fire me. The nightshift at the gas station was the best gig I ever had and now I can't even enjoy that. Jesus Christ..." He took a seat next to him, watching him pull out the can opener and cut the tin tops open. A fork was given to him as well as his own can of beans. Man, he'd really enjoy these warmed up right now, but beggars can't be choosers. Never would he have thought he'd miss work. 

"It's kind of weird talking about what happened a month ago like this... Nostalgic and all." And it seemed Shiro felt the same way he did. Of course, frequently they had been on the same wavelength. There was no one who knew him better than Shiro had.

"Yeah... Is this...really how we're gonna keep living now? Until we just...die in some horrific way?" Silence. Oh, how he wished it didn't fill the air. How he wished thing could be different, easier.

"I don't know. Maybe."


End file.
